Son of A Preacher Man
by ReignofTera02
Summary: Tulip doesn't meet Jesse until after he becomes a preacher.


**CHAPTER 1 – Black and White**

 **The Neighbourhood - No Grey**

 _ **Everything's black**_

 _ **And white**_

 _ **No grey.**_

Life of a preacher.

Dull as it was, it was always interesting.

He never knew what kinda day he'd have.

Small town secrets.

They were the only thing that pulled him out of the confinements of his bedroom.

Well that and the promise. That damn promise that continued to taunt him, perpetually haunting his dreams. It was inescapable – like the damn cycle of his days as preacher to small backwards texan town, Anville.

It was today that he found him seeking out a purpose. Some reason to roll out of the comfort of his bed.

He didn't know much about the o'Hares – only that it was a name muttered with disgust. Most people avoided them but he was different – he just never had a reason to cross paths with the O'Hares. Well, apart from the youngest – Priscilla Jean.

There only encounters were from across the playground. He would watch as she was either being dragged away from fights or sat outside the principal's office.

Every single time he saw her, she proudly brandished a new bruise or busted lip.

He'd never laid eyes on her guardians and never had reason to. Until today.

All because of Emily. She had mentioned it – casually in conversation. Something along the lines of her co-worker not turning up to work in over two weeks.

Only thing he could vividly remember was the name.

Walter O'Hare.

Jesse liked to think he was different. He considered himself different to the simple-minded townfolk. The ones who claimed to be christian but were so quick to cast judgement.

His father was like that.

As much as he tried to deny it.

It was the one thing they always disagreed on but he made sure to keep his thoughts silent.

After his dad gave his ass a whooping he knew better than to go around the likes of an O'Hare – scared him straight.

I suppose that was a perfect way to define the kinda man he was. Everything he did and was, was because he'd been scared straight.

His father used punishment in teaching him the way of life. Each beating was soon brandished into his memory whenever he considered doing something that was 'unholy' or wouldn't 'set a good example' to his peers.

The bible – all it talked about was right and wrong, Heaven and hell.

Everything was black and white.

Nothing inbetween.

That was just the first ominous thought he had before stepping over the threshhold. It was bad enough that the door was unlocked but now as he moved further into the dim lit house, he couldn't help but look towards his escape.

Only as he broke his gaze, he lost his footing and stumbled further through the empty crumpled beer cans. A glass bottle rolled away, making way for him and reminding him of the insufferable stench.

He stifled a cough and held the bible

Work-hazard.

He had to carry the good book everywhere he went, not knowing when he would need it. He already knew the thing cover to cover. He'd come to realise that the simple gesture of flipping through the book usually helped to ease a person's worries. The real reason he cartered a thousand page book around was the engraving.

One that he often found himself brushing his fingers over.

 **BE JOYFUL IN HOPE, PATIENT IN AFFLICTION, FAITHFUL IN PRAYER**

 **Romans 12:12**

 **I FIND STRENGTH IN HIM WHO**

One chosen by his mother.

He mulled over the very words as he walked further into the room. "Mr. O'Hare?" he called, expertly dodging a few cans. "Mr. O'Hare" he hissed, failing as the stench turned his stomach and he had to force back the bile that threatened to spill over the red carpet.

Finally he followed the heavy snoring to the large shirtless man on the couch. His arm was carelessly flung towards the floor.

Dead to the world.

"Let's find you a shirt Mr. Walter" he murmured and moved towards the bedroom. He recalled how

During his endeavour, he found himself thinking of Walter's niece.

Part of him couldn't help but feel annoyance that she had just packed up and left him behind. Then again, he envisioned the fiesty,

Priscilla would have been damned before allowing this town to hold her back.

Looking after a grown man was far from being her responsibility.

Didn't she have any family?

Whatever different scnearios his mind would have eventually concocuted were interrupted when wide eyes locked onto the small pistol on the dress. Only then did he lock onto the broken rendition of Carly Simon.

"You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you

You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is about you…"

For a split second he smiled at how the feminine voice cracked trying to hold out the note and amused by the whole situation. Then he found himself and glanced towards the unmoving form that was Walter.

Then he realised he was still there.

When he clearly didn't need to be.

Someone was already here. Which meant that he was tresspassing.

That was all he needed to draw his gaze away from the steaming dorway and hastily make his way back towards the living room.

Of course luck was not on his side as he stubbed his toe, momentarily stopping him. That was more than enough as a sharp voice called out to him. "Who the fuck are you? And why the fuck are you in my house?"

He turned, unprepared for the sight that awaited him.

Naked.

Wet.

Naked and wet.

Jesse had to will every single part of him to look up to her eyes. Only the girl was busy staring at the white collar around his neck and then down to the bible he gripped onto for dear life.

He cleared his throat and focused his thoughts on reciting Genesis 1.

Tulip glanced at the man, watching his bashful smile as he glanced away. She couldn't help but smile when the blood begun to rush to his cheeks and he gave a strained cough.

There was a faraway look in his eyes that intrigued her. She also noticed how his lips were moving, brushing softly but the sounds made were harsh breaths..

"You deaf?" she arched a brow and placed a hand on her hip. Yes, Tulip was very aware of her naked body and clearly so was he. Something within her liked to see the preacher squirm. it amused her to no end and she failed at hiding her smug smirk.

"Um…He – W-walter didn't come t-to work – he hasn't been for a t-few weeks" he stuttered, still not daring to look in her direction. Instead, Jesse'd found a great interest in the simple pattern of their beer stained carpet.

Tulip crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze. Her smirk was gone, frowning at the thought that everyone was sticking their nose in her family affairs. They were all probably having a good laugh – preacher included.

"How's that any of your business?" she snapped.

At the harshness of her tone, Jesse's eyes couldn't help but seek her out, wanting to read her expression but the situation was glaring at him. "Well I'm just – could you put some clothes on?" he stammered, feeling unbelievably small. Suddenly, he fourteen, locked in the closet with a topless Suzy Mason and counting down their seven minutes in hell.

"Don't know why I should accommodate a tresspasser?" Tulip retorted, back to being amused but that wasn't enough to obliterate her annoyance. Still, she muttered a curse before whipping the towel from her damn locks and wrapping it around her body. "Better?" she mused, a playful smile still playing on her lips.

Jesse's shoulder's visibly slackened and he released a shaky breath. In an achingly slow pace, he forced his eyes back onto the woman. "Much" he nodded but his voice failed him.

Young. Pretty.

Definitely stood out from the peeling paint, bare walls, nonsensical

He tried not to think about the nakedness underneath the small barrier that was the beige towel.

"So you mind telling me what the hell you're doing here?" she asked, obviously unpeterbed by his attire and it's significance.

"Emily works with your father an' she was worried. Asked me to come and check on-"

"He ain't my dad"

"My mistake"

"He's my uncle" she answered offhandedly but something else seemed to catch her eye. She was back to staring at the collar and suddenly Jesse was finding it difficult to breath. Under her relentless gaze, he felt uncomfortable and pleaded that she would release him.

Thankfully, shortly after her eyes darted up to his.

Brown on brown.

Hers were a shade darker – more coffee like, he noted.

"Jesse? Jesse Custer?" she smirked with recognition, pushing herself from the wall and taking a step towards him. "Son of a preacher man" she shook her head and went back to crossing her arms. The amusement changed into what he could only describe as "Your daddy must be very proud" she whistled.

Something about the way she said it sounded mocking and he suddenly found the tables turned – feeling oddly uncomfortable.

"You're Priscilla" he remembered with a timid nod. "Priscilla Jean"

She smirked. "Those who've seen me naked call me Tulip"

He blushed.

"Well as you can see, I'm back so your house calls are unnecessary"

Suddenly he was alert. "Does that mean you're staying?"

Neither one understood the strange tone underlying his words.

"Maybe" she shrugged and he knew she wasn't being flippant – the answer was what she believed to be true.

"I should change"

"Course" he blushed again, ducked his head and walked towards the door. All the while he was very aware of the tiny feet that padded after him. He decided to offer one last apology before leaving. "Sorry for-"

"Don't worry 'bout it" she shook her head, flippantly waving him off. Then, without so much as a goodbye, the door was slammed to his face.

That was different.


End file.
